


I’ll always find my way back to you

by sach_a_nerd



Series: The Aftermath [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x03, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Picks up at the end of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-02-10 10:10:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18658318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sach_a_nerd/pseuds/sach_a_nerd
Summary: It’s too quiet. Where are you? I need to know that you’re okay.





	1. Missandei

**Author's Note:**

> SOOOO... I couldn't sleep.  
> As the tags say, these chapters pick up at the end of Episode 3.  
> It made emotional as I wrote this.  
> Hope you enjoy it. :) More pairings will be written in future.

Silence returned to the crypts of Winterfell. No more screams of the dead or the living. Just silence. One by one; the old, the women and the children began to emerge from their hiding spots in the darkness and into the dimmed candlelight. All the survivors lined up next to Lady Sansa and Tyrion as they stared at the bodies lain across the floor. The mother with the blonde haired boy took him up into her arms and spoke to Lady Sansa.

“Is it over?” she asked, “Did they do it?”

Missandei saw Lady Sansa struggle to find the words to speak. Even Tyrion didn’t answer.

“I think so,” Missandei whispered.

_If it’s over, we won. We survived._

Then she gasped.

_My Queen. Grey Worm._

Missandei started to walk to the entrance of the crypts while carefully avoiding the bodies on the floor. There was so many. Just as she reached the bottom of the stairway leading their way out, a voice called out.

“Missandei! Please stop. We don’t know what’s out there.”

She turned to see Varys take a step forward before continuing.

“Perhaps it’s best if we wait until someone comes for us. If you open the door and the dead are still out there, we could all perish.”

“The dead were already here,” she replied as she motioned to the resting places of the Starks and the mummified bodies on the floor. “And now the dead are no more. I need to find my Queen.”

Her heart begins to beat faster as she skipped every second step up to the barricaded door. She struggled and almost screamed as she lifted the wood plank off its supports. The plank fell with a solid thud as she caught her breath. Missandei opened the door towards her, wanting to slowly open it to avoid any attention but the weight of the door took all her strength to keep it from swinging open. But then suddenly a body fell through the crack, and another and another. It wasn’t very long until Missandei’s arms gave out and a pile of bodies pushed its way into the entrance landing of the crypts. A short scream punctured the air from the base of the stairs. She saw the mother with her mouth agape as she covered the eyes of her blonde haired son and she backed away from the stairs.

Missandei turned back to the bodies of the men and women that had fallen through. She saw them armoured with different shields and breastplates carrying the sigils of a direwolf, a bear or the bird and the crescent moon. All were bloody, bruised, and lying lifeless with mud and dirt all over. Also scattered within the pile were those who have been long dead, those who were almost just bones. She now understood. These Westerosi men and women had died defending the crypt. As the dead had kept coming, the pile outside the door had grown. She took a deep breath and pushed her way towards the outside and was met with the dawn’s crisp winter air.

She looked in disbelief at the carnage in the courtyard around her. The strong stench of the smoke and the blood made her eyes begin to water. There were large plumes of grey smoke coming from every other tower across the battlements. Many of Winterfell’s walls that have stood for generations completely destroyed, as though the stones of the wall had just melted away. There were people walking around, some aimlessly, some with purpose. There were some already digging through the ruins of destroyed battlements and towers and piles of bodies, in the hopes of finding life. Others just sat on the floor or leaned on anything for support, exhausted. Looking around, she managed to get her bearings.

_I am near the southern gate,_ she thought. _Where could they be?_

She looked to the sky yet there were no signs of dragons flying above.

_The godswood?_

Just as she turned towards the gatehouse that leads to the godswood, a small group of  Unsullied soldiers emerged from the haze.

“ _Where is our Queen_?!” she spoke to them in Astapori Valyrian.

“ _Last we saw her dragon fly north.”_

“ _Search for survivors. I will find her_.”

She started to run. Left by the kennels through narrow passageways, pushing the dead that was blocking her way. After she got past another lot, she looked down at her hands and dress. Mud and blood covered the better part of her front. She kept going. Just as she rounded the corner and saw the northern gate, someone grabbed her by the arm.

“Missandei!”

It was Grey Worm. Relief washed over her as she enveloped him into a hug. But he pushed her away. His face was bloody, a few cuts to his face. Yet he wasn’t looking at her face. His eyes seemed frantic, full of fear as he began to assess her from head to toe.

She put her bloody hands on his face and drew his gaze into her eyes. Tears began to fall as she told him, “It’s not my blood. I’m okay.”

As the words came out of her mouth, Grey Worm let out a gasp of air. His eyes closed and a tear trickled down his face. His hands, also stained in mud and blood trembled as he covered her hands. He brought his head forward and rested his forehead on hers. After an extended breath, Grey Worm tilted his head to the side but Missandei stepped up and kissed him.

A few moments after they broke apart, he asked about Daenerys.

“I think she’s North,” she answered, “Some of the Unsullied saw Drogon fly in that direction.”

“Okay, let us go and see.”

In the early morning light, narrow paths could be seen in the snow in between the mounds of bodies just outside the Northern Gate. They carefully made their way over the trenches and began looking left and right for any signs of the dragon’s black-red wings. What caught Missandei’s eye on her left was the mountains of bodies stacked high, alongside the walls of Winterfell. The fire in the trenches dimmed as the sky brightened little by little.

“Missandei,” Grey Worm called out and pointed to the right, “The Dragon.”

The fear that had left her once before quickly resurfaced. Her heart began to race again.

_Something isn’t right._

The look Grey Worm shared with her echoed her thoughts. The dragon was on the ground, hardly moving. Missandei was not able to tell if it was alive from this distance. They made their way as quickly as they could. Not too fast, to prevent startling Drogon. As they grew closer, they saw the cuts across it’s back, deep and bloody but it’s chest rose and fell. The dragon was curled up, its wings as a barrier to the world outside. Missandei took the lead as they approached the front of the dragon. She was not fearful of being harmed by the dragon, she was scared of what she would find inside.

With three steps between her and the dragon’s wing, Drogon rose its head up from behind its wings snarling. Its neck contorted in a way that reminded Missandei of the way the snakes back in Naath prepare itself for an attack.

“Drogon, please.” At this moment, she felt as though her heart could jump out of her body. The black-red wings lifted to reveal Daenerys cradling a body in her arms. Missandei and Grey Worm moved, both releasing a small sigh of relief and crouched by her side.

_Our Queen is alive._

“He’s d-,” she said, her voice broke into sobs, “Ser Jorah. I tried to help, there were too-.” Missandei put her arm around Daenerys and rested her head on her queen’s shoulder. This gave Daenerys another opportunity to truly mourn and grieve. Daenerys began to cry. She didn’t move until Grey Worm spoke.

“My Queen, did you want me to carry Ser Jorah inside?”

Missandei saw Daenerys’ lips tremble as she pressed a final kiss on Ser Jorah’s forehead. After she gently rested his head onto the ground, she wiped the tears away from her face. As she picked up his Valyrian steel sword, she wiped the blood from its blade and return it to its sheath. Once she placed the sword on his chest, she stood up with Missandei supporting her as she rose. Her eyes, puffy and red but her face wore the look of perseverance. Missandei knew Daenerys was already thinking of what lies ahead.

“Grey Worm, please take Ser Jorah to the Great Hall if they haven’t decided where to put the bodies yet. Assist any who are finding survivors. Missandei will accompany me to the Godswood. Jon was going after his brother.”

She winced momentarily as she took a step forward. Missandei held on for a couple more steps and noticed that almost immediately after those steps, her queen refused to betray any notion that she was in pain.

“Jon must have gotten there in time,” Daenerys whispered, as she looked in the direction of the Godswood.


	2. Tyrion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to orientate you, this chapter begins maybe ten minutes after Missandei left.

As he approached the stairs that led out of the crypts, Tyrion could see the number of bodies of the dead accumulate. He looked at the others and then at Sansa, with a question on his lips. She looked back at him and nodded before she took a couple of steps up the stairs and turned to address the others.

“I don’t know what we will see up there,” Sansa began, “But know that we will keep moving forward. I pray to the old gods and the new that the Dragon Queen’s handmaiden was right to assume the fighting is over. Varys and Gilly, Can I trust that the two of you will find some kind of sustenance to begin feeding everyone and arrange an area to lay the dead so they can be identified and have a proper burial?”

“Of course, Lady Stark.” replied Gilly.

“How about outside the walls, near the northern trenches?” questioned Varys. “To lay the dead, my lady?”

“Yes, that can be the place,” Tyrion chimed in, before addressing the crowd. “Find your loved ones and help others to do the same. After you have had your moment with them, however happy or distressed you may be, help us return Winterfell to order and we may be able to rest easy tonight with a full belly of food and drink.”

Sansa and Tyrion led the way. One by one, the crowd of the old, the women and the children climbed the stairs out of the crypts. Some stayed behind to remain with their fallen family members. As they guide the crowd out and into the courtyard, Sansa turned to face him.

“I need to make sure if Bran is okay.”

“Of course,” he replied and after a pause, “I don’t know where to start looking for my brother.”

“Try circling around to the Northern Gate, I remember Arya saying that on the retreat, Lady Brienne-

“Actually it’s Ser Brienne now,” Tyrion interrupted with a smile.

“I’m sorry, what?” Sansa replied a little confused, “How?”

“Jaime knighted her last night,” Tyrion answered, slightly amused of Sansa’s facial expression changing from confusion to pride and astonishment, “It was a sight to behold.”

 “Well then, Arya said that Ser Brienne was to command the forces on the northern ramparts, once they had retreated from the left flank. And I assume wherever she goes, your brother is sure to follow. I think those two care for each other more than they care to admit.”

It was Tyrion’s turn to look at Sansa in amazement.

“Did I ever tell you how observant you are?”

“No,” Sansa replied with a small smile, “But you can tell me later.” She reached out and squeezed his hand before running towards the gatehouse of the godswood.

As she suggested, Tyrion made his way around the kennels and entered the northern courtyard. As he walked, he saw the weapons of dragonglass and steel scattered across the floor. Some were damaged, and all were bloody. The snow continued to fall lightly as it began to form the thinnest layer of white onto the dead.  The piles of bodies made it difficult for Tyrion to see, but he managed to view the largest mound of dead bodies right next to the northern gate from where he stood. On top, he could see the red-headed wildling, Tormund and Gendry with a large hammer sitting back to back, both clearly exhausted from the fight. For a moment, Tyrion thought his eyes were deceiving him. Gendry with his hammer propped up beside him reminded him so much of the late King Robert Baratheon in his youth, just based on how the firelight danced on his face.

 _Maybe they've seen Jaime_ , he thought.

Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, he saw a glint of gold.

With their backs against the wall, Tyrion saw Brienne, Jaime and to his surprise, Podrick, all breathing heavily and surrounded on all sides by dead bodies. All of them bloody, bruised and in shock, it took everything of Tyrion to not scream out. He just took in the sight of seeing them safe and his heart filled with comfort. That’s when he spotted it. Brienne holding her sword in one hand while she reached out and clutched onto Jaime’s gold hand with her other.

 _Was either of them aware of what Ser Brienne was doing?_  , he wondered.

As fast as he could Tyrion made his way up onto the landing on which they stood to find Jaime, now on his knees, with Brienne’s hand now on his shoulder. The brothers looked into each other’s eyes for only a moment before Jaime almost crushes Tyrion in a hug. Tyrion rubbed his brother’s back as tears welled in his eyes. As this hug continued, he saw Brienne approach Podrick.

“Podrick?” Brienne whispered. Tyrion and Jaime let each other go and turned towards Brienne. Pod, who was leaning against the wall, suddenly collapsed to the floor.

“Pod!” the three of them shouted in unison and huddled around him. His eyes seemed distant. His skin pale. Brienne broke off his chest plate to check for any signs of injury, but Tyrion saw no blood stains on his tunic. Next, she placed her hand on the left side of his chest.

“His heart is racing,” Brienne said, “I think he’s just in shock.”

“Let’s lie him down and raise his legs,” Jaime suggested and they moved Pod into position. All Tyrion could do was hold his hand.

A few moments past until Podrick pushed himself off the floor. Both Jaime and Brienne helped him lean back against the wall, the four of them now crouched in a circle. Tyrion was on Pod’s left and Brienne in front while Jaime was on his right. The colour had returned to Pod’s face and a weak smile formed on his lips.

“Sorry about that,” he said quietly.

“Pod, you have nothing to apologise for.” Brienne replied, “You fought bravely and brilliantly.”

She raised her hand, holding it in the middle of the air for a moment before she rested it on his shoulder.

“I… I am very proud of you,” she said with tears threatening to fall from her eyes. Tears of exhaustion or tears of happiness? Tyrion assumed both.

“We all are,” Tyrion agreed and then continued, “How did you manage to stay together?”

“We looked out for one another,” Jaime responded, looking at Brienne who returned his gaze and gave a small tired smile. Tyrion and Podrick shared a knowing look as they looked at the pair of knights who were probably lost in each other’s eyes.

 “Why don’t you rest here for a little while until we find you some food or drink?” Tyrion suggested to Podrick after a long moment had passed, which caused Jaime and Brienne to break their gaze.

Suddenly, Tormund’s voice boomed as he and Gendry approached, “I have sour goat’s milk! I always say it’s better than, what you Southerners call wine!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have mentioned this before the start of Chapter One but this work is basically everyone coming to grips with the fighting finishing so abruptly and them ultimately discovering how it came about. I know they won't cover this on the show to this sort of depth but I wanted to fill in the gaps. I mean if I was in this situation, my initial reaction would be to find the person I care most about and make sure they are alright. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> Please leave a kudos and/or comment! :)
> 
> Side Note: I think the only three people on the show who knows about Gendry's father is Davos, Jon and Arya, right?  
> Side, side note: Who else thought Podrick was a goner before the episode began? I'm so glad he's not dead!


	3. Gendry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some context, this chapter starts just before the end of episode 3.

_Stark. The Vale. Karstark. Unsullied. Wildling. Vale. Stark. Unsullied. Mormont._

One after another, newly risen wights came at them from all sides. At times they got so close that Gendry could see their sigil on their armour as he fought to push them back or drive his hammer into their skull. As each one fell, the mound on which he and Tormund stood upon became larger. They screamed with every swing they made, yet Gendry could hardly tell from how loudly his heart pounded in his ears.

Suddenly he felt something clutch around his ankle. A hand had reached out from under the dead bodies, attempting to pull his leg into the pile. The force of the pull caused Gendry to fall onto his back. As he struggled to get back up, another wight, made of bones and torn flesh, came down upon him with a dagger. Using his hammer, he knocked the dagger out of its grasp, but now struggled to keep it back as the wight tried to claw at his body.

“TORMUND!” Gendry yelled as he desperately tried to free himself from its grasp.

The red-haired wilding turned around with fury in his eyes. Not wasting a breath, he rose his weapon and drove it through the wight’s chest. He rose it again and cut the arm that held Gendry’s ankle. Tormund held out his arm which Gendry took and rose to his feet.

“Get Down!” Gendry ordered and swung the hammer around his head. Just as Tormund dropped, Gendry’s hammer collided with three wights. Once the wilding was back on his feet, the pair were back to back.

_Unsullied. Karstark. Mormont. Wildling. Stark. Unsullied. Mormont. Stark. Vale. Stark._

A high pitched sound echoed in the distance.

The wights fell.

The air of the night suddenly filled Gendry’s lungs. As though he had held his breath for the entire night.  He pushed the air out and heaved some more back in.  Blood dripped from his hammer, down the handle and over his hands. He looked around the courtyard. The ones left standing looked around, stunned. A stillness blanketed the yard, only the firelight caused the shadows to dance. As this stretch of silence passed, a large white beast entered through the main gate. As it went by, Gendry knew it to be Ghost, yet his fur was no longer as white as snow. A deep red covered the fur around his mouth and travelled down to the front of his paws and most of the fur of his back to tail was tinted in a dark shade of brown.

Gendry looked over to Tormund. He saw that the wildling sat on the mound of bodies, pulled out his goatskin and took a swing of the drink. Then, Tormund looked over his shoulder.

“Sit Down,” he instructed and held out the goatskin, “Have a drink.”

Gendry took a couple of steps and took the drink out of his hand. Even before he pressed his lips to the mouthpiece, he could smell the drink’s sharp and intense odour. He tipped his head back and took a large mouthful. The moment it touched his tongue, he spat it back out.

“What in the seven hells is that?!”

“What do you mean? It’s sour goat’s milk,” Tormund said taking back the goatskin, “The best kind of drink a man can have. Made it myself.”

He didn’t have the strength to comment on how wrong he thought the wildling was, so he did as he was told and sat down. When his back came into contact with Tormund’s, he felt that he had enough support to keep him from rolling off the mound just from the exhaustion. His hammer was propped beside him, the stag he had carved into the dragonglass hammerhead over a month ago was soaked in blood.

He closed his eyes and remembered the sound of the horn that had woken him up when the night was still cold and his only comfort was Arya’s warmth by his side. Don’t die, she had said before she ran off with her weapons in hand. He mumbled under his breath as she faded into the shadows, As my lady commands, now wishing she had heard it.

_Arya._

He looked up at the ramparts of the gatehouse and the walls surrounding the courtyard and saw no sign of her.

_Where could she be?_

Gendry felt a thud against his shoulder and saw the goatskin being offered again. He took it and swallowed a gulp down, struggling. Then as he passed it back, he saw the Commander of the Unsullied and the Dragon Queen’s handmaiden run past outside the north gate.

 _They probably are looking for their queen,_ he thought. _How do I find Arya?_

Gendry rested for a while as he pondered where he should look. Part of him feared what he would find. Yet he felt that she was okay. She had to be. As the sky began to brighten, many of the survivors began to move. Gendry made his way off the pile to find a large man at the bottom with tears streaked down his blood-stained face.

“What’s your name?” he asked as he put a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“S-S-Sam,” he struggled to get out, his teeth were chattering so hard.

“Alright. Do you think you can stand Sam?”

“I th- I think so.”

Gendry held out his arm and he grabbed on. With one swift pull, he lifted Sam to his feet.

“Is there anyone you need to find?”

“Gilly and my son. They were in the crypts.”

Before Gendry could put in another word, Sam began to run in the direction of the crypts. Then, Tormund appeared before him.

“There are so many bodies. We should probably get some help to move the-“

“Pod!”

Tormund’s head snapped towards the shouts.

“The big woman!” he exclaimed. He pulled Gendry by his collar and made him follow. They trudged over the bodies and arrived at the battlement that had been obliterated by the Night King’s dragon. The rubble of melted stone made the trek longer than expected. Along one of the towers that remained, Gendry could see a low landing with three figures crouched around the wall.

“Why don’t you rest here for a little while until we find you some food or drink?”

“I have sour goat’s milk! I always say it’s better than, what you Southerners call wine!” Tormund boomed as Gendry followed him up the stairs.

All three of them, Brienne, Tyrion and Jaime, turned their heads, wide-eyed and startled from the unexpected interruption.

Gendry took a step back. The Kingslayer. He was not as Gendry remembered from the days he used to work in Flea Bottom. He’s made armour for him more than once, even when he didn’t have that golden hand. When he had returned to Steel Street, he saw the Kingslayer once more after the Queen had blown up the Sept. Of course, he couldn’t recognise Gendry, but the blacksmith knew to keep his distance. Yet now, it was the little Lannister staring straight at him with a perplexed look.

“Take it and take a large drink,” Tormund said as he pushed the goatskin onto Podrick’s chest, “It’ll help settle your shakes.” He takes a sip but unlike Gendry took three gulps.

Tormund grinned as he took the drink back.

“Good, ay?”

“Worse than the ale they served us at the Night’s Watch,” groaned Podrick. As Tormund smile fell, the others including Gendry let out a laugh. They revelled in the moment, but it left as quick as it came, once Tormund spoke up once more.

“Where is everyone though?”

It was a question that was left hanging in the air. Until Tyrion spoke.

“Sansa said that she went to the godswood to make sure Bran is okay. My best guess is if any of the others survived, they’d probably go to the godswood as well.”

 _Arya might be there_ , Gendry thought.

“If that’s where Lady Sansa is, that’s where I’ll be heading,” Brienne said.

“I’ll go with you,” Jaime added.

“I’m sorry Ser Brienne, but I don’t think I have the strength to stand at the moment.”

“That’s alright, Podrick,” she replied, “You wait here until you can stand. Once you’re ready, start by helping to move the bodies.”

“Very good, Ser.”

“Varys said he’d organise the move near the northern trenches,” Tyrion added.

“As soon as I’m able, My Lord,” said Podrick.

The group of Lannisters, the wildling, the knight of Tarth and Gendry descended the stairs and returned to the centre of the northern courtyard, as there was no feasible way to cut across the rubble and straight to the crypts.

“I am going to search for any Free-folks,” announced Tormund, “I’ll try to be near the western gate if you want to reach me.”

He slapped his hand against Gendry’s back and bowed his head at Ser Brienne before marching away.

“I need to follow his lead,” added Tyrion, “I need to find my queen.”

“You found her.”

The group turned their heads to see Grey Worm carrying the body of Ser Jorah followed by the Dragon Queen and Missandei. Gendry saw that Tyrion’s face fell as he saw the exiled knight’s body go passed him. Tyrion took the Queen’s hand and spoke softly.

“I’m so sorry.”

Daenerys didn’t speak. So Missandei spoke for her.

“Ser Jorah died protecting his Queen. For that, the Queen is eternally grateful to him.”

“I am going to the godswood. The last I saw of Jon near the trenches, he was concerned of his brother’s safety and ran towards Winterfell,” Daenerys spoke up, “I believe he is in the godswood.”

“If you don’t mind, we would like to accompany you, Your Grace,” Brienne said, “We understand that Lady Stark has also gone to the godswood to find her brother.”

The dragon queen nodded and allowed the group to follow behind, with Gendry bringing up the rear holding a silent prayer for Arya in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this took longer than expected. Rewatching the episode for the dozenth time, I think Gendry might have not had his hammer but a mace-like weapon. Regardless, I have given myself the artistic licence to tweak some things. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter!  
> Please remember to leave a kudos and/or comment, if you have the time! :)


	4. Davos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins literally a moment before Arya has done the deed.

The wight of Lyanna Mormont stood up once more, her eyes burned blue and her scream was a blood-curdling screech that made the hairs on his neck rise. Her blood dripped onto the lower half of her armour and painted the floor around her, red. Pressed against a wall, Davos held his sword almost like a shield. He was prepared to push her back once more. He knew that he could use his sword to cut her but he didn’t want to hurt the little bear.

A high-pitched sound echoed from the Godswood.

Then Lyanna fell.

Davos stood there. Gasping for breath.

_Can it really be over?_

He looked over to Lyanna’s lifeless body. She hadn’t moved. He walked over with his sword raised, ready for any surprises. But she looked as though, she had just rested her eyes and fallen asleep. He ripped a piece from his tunic that remained fairly clean before returning his sword to its sheath. His legs ached as he knelt beside her and began wiping the blood away from her face.

As tears sprung into his eyes, a figure dressed in red emerged from a building across the yard.

_The Red Woman is still alive._

He shakily got back onto his feet and began to follow the woman with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

_I’ll kill the w-_

Davos’ thought stopped as he saw Melisandre remove her necklace as she walked out onto the snow-covered land towards the dawn. He lowered his head as he watched her fall. A figure came and stood by him. The burn on the right side of his face allowed Davos to recognise him immediately. Just passed the Hound, Davos saw Ghost’s red eyes and blood-stained fur as he emerged from the shadows. The direwolf looked at Davos expectantly before silently turning back and heading towards the godswood.

“Come with me,” Davos told the Hound, and they both followed Ghost into the southern courtyard. They found Jon standing in front of the remains of a dragon, still and as pale as a sheet. His direwolf licked his hand which got him out of his stupor before the beast continued towards the gatehouse that led to Bran. Jon wordlessly turns towards Davos and the Hound.

“Do you know if your brother is okay?” Davos asked.

Jon shook his head and looked back at the godswood.

Davos placed his hand onto Jon’s shoulder, as a sign for him to take his first step forward.

“Well then, let’s go have a look.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me, it is a short one and not so well written. I needed a scene in the Battle of Winterfell where we saw the newly risen wights which we knew, (like Lyanna, Edd or Qhono) actually attack the living, especially the main characters. I felt there was so much potential that was lost!


	5. The Starks – Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picks up where the last chapter left off.

Just past the gatehouse, a path lined with fallen wights guided them through the ironwood and mighty oak trees. The snow on which they tread was fresh and white, save for Ghost’s bloody pawprints. As a child, he often found solace in the quiet of the godswood. It was the place he’d run to whenever Lady Catelyn Stark made the extra effort to be cold and callous towards him. But now the trees and the silence settled the feeling of dread in his heart.

_Yes. The Night King must be dead. The dragon had fallen_ , Jon thought. _But who dealt the final blow? Did they get to Bran in time before the Night King arrived? Were they injured? Were they dead?_

The thoughts bubbled around in his mind as Jon started to list the people he saw as he made his way into Winterfell.

_Gendry. Tormund. Samwell. Grey Worm. Brienne. Jaime. Podrick. Davos. The Hound_

He knew they were too overwhelmed with the newly risen wights to have made it to the godswood before he tried. He came to the realisation that he didn’t see Arya, Lyanna, Beric, Edd and the Red Woman as well.

_Could it have been Theon?_

As though the Old Gods of the Forest were privy to his thoughts, when Jon, Davos and the Hound reached the edge of the clearing, they found Ghost whimpering by Theon’s lifeless body. A memory flooded back.

_“_ You don’t need to choose. You’re a Greyjoy and You’re a Stark _.”_

_Yet, Theon did choose, Jon thought. He chose to come back to Winterfell. He chose to fight for the Starks. They may have not shared a name nor blood, but he was his brother. In the same way, he felt towards Robb, Bran and Rickon._

Jon knelt onto one knee and helped Theon’s eyes close, as Ghost laid by Theon’s side.

“Jon?” Davos whispered.

He looked up to Davos, to see him point out to the centre of the clearing.

The weirwood tree’s red leaves rustled softly as the light snow fell and the wind moved through its outreaching branches. Below stood Arya. He slowly walked towards her, almost unsure. The shards of ice shattered under his boots as he stepped forward. He felt Davos and the Hound follow closely behind.

He noticed the wound on her head and the trails of blood that travelled down her face. As he drew closer, he saw tears sparkle in her eyes. He saw her lips tremble as she gave him a small smile. The same small smile she’d given him when he handed her Needle all those years ago.  He stopped with a couple of steps between them and noticed the dagger in her hand. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the weapon. Valyrian steel.

“Arya?” Her name came out as a question. His heart beat so loudly that he feared it may stop due to the silence that had followed.

“She killed the Night King,” Bran spoke up. Jon took in a sharp breath as he looked behind Arya to see Bran staring at the two of them. He had forgotten that Bran was there. He looked back at Davos and the Hound to see if they heard the same as he did. The both of them looked at Arya with pride. A feeling that he had seen on Davos’ face once before when Lyanna Mormont confronted the other Northern Lords, but the Hound? It confused Jon as it was strange to see any emotion on his face at all. Then, a feeling hit him. Years and years of worry and terror faded away and was replaced with a warm comforting sense of relief.

Jon looked back at Arya who seemed as if she was going to jump up and hug him. She had moved a fraction with her arms raised, when he shouted, “Careful!” His eyes pointed at the dagger. She chuckled quietly to herself before she spun her dagger back into its sheath at her belt. Now, Jon, his tired arms wide open allowed her to jump into a hug. He hugged her tightly and showered her head with kisses.

His sister saved the realms of men. His sister defeated the Night King. His sister, Arya Stark of Winterfell was the Bringer of the Dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. This one is short too. I love this chapter though. It made me feel things. And I have a feeling that tonight's episode won't show Jon finding out this way. And it breaks my heart.   
> Side note: If Jon gets the credit or anyone else for that matter, gets credit for killing the NK, I'll be so pissed.


	6. The Starks - Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picks up where the last chapter left off.

“Theon!”

  
Sansa fell to her knees at his side. Ghost had seen her approach, softly whimpered before resting his head beside Theon’s again. Her tears flooded down her cheeks and fell onto Theon’s face. Her hands shook as she began to wipe her tears, the dirt and blood from his face. She allowed her head to fall while cradling his head in her lap. She closed her eyes and began to whisper his name over and over, almost like a prayer.

“Theon, Theon, Theon.”

The sobs shook her. His face felt cold as did the blood that had trickled out of his mouth. She wanted to thank him. She wanted to tell him that they had won. She didn’t want to let him go. A hand rested on her shoulder. Taking in a quick breath of air, she pulled the dragonglass dagger she had held onto from the crypts, out of the inner pocket of her dress, and attempted to stab the dark, looming figure with the dagger’s pointy end. Another hand grabbed her wrist, as he crouched before her. The tears in her eyes clouded her vision.

“It’s just me, Little Bird.”

Sansa blinked a couple of times. As her sight began to clear, she recognised Sandor Clegane’s face and let out the breath she had held. For weeks, she had seen him from afar wandering about the courtyards of Winterfell. She had no courage to face him. Now, he was crouched before her, one hand on her shoulder, the other on her wrist. She looked nowhere else but his eyes. It was somewhat different from the face she saw all those years ago at the Battle of the Blackwater. The face of the man that had left her chambers that night, was a man stricken by fear. His eyes were panicked and his breath had been shallow like prey that had been surrounded on all sides, with no hope of escape. As Sansa looked into his eyes now, she saw a calmness that she never had seen before. He let go of her wrist and pulled out a mud-soaked cloth. Sansa could see the Hound stare at the cloth, almost annoyed at it for being dirty. He looked back at Sansa, and his expression slightly softened. She looked back down at Theon’s peaceful face and returned his head to rest back onto the snow-covered ground.

Sandor helped Sansa to her feet, blocking her view of the centre of the clearing where the others stood by the weirwood tree.

“Did you want me to escort you back to your chambers?” his deep voice gravelly whispered.

“No,” she replied, “I want to know if Bran is okay.”

“The Little Stark is okay,” he assured her, “ Your she-wolf of a sister defeated Death. She destroyed the Night King.”

Sansa stepped past the Hound to see Bran, Jon and Arya standing closely together under the shelter of the red leaves of the weirwood tree with Ser Davos leaning on his sword, just off to the side. She quickly began to walk towards Arya, just as she did months ago when they had reunited in the crypts, and wrapped her in a hug. She looked over to Jon and Bran. Jon stood behind Bran’s wheeled-chair, with his hand resting on his little brother’s shoulder. Sansa looked down to Arya, before moving her closer to their brothers, to add them to the hug that they all needed.

Sansa pulled away first but remained in close contact, as the warmth that radiated between the four of them was enough to stop her from shaking. She looked to Arya once again.

“You know, they’ll sing songs and tell stories about you,” Sansa smiled.

“Every child in Westeros will know your name and what you did, centuries after we have gone,” Jon continued, “Arya Stark, The Hero of Winterfell. The Bringer of the Dawn.” Arya returned a small, wistful smile.

Both, Sansa and Jon noticed Arya’s response but as they shared a glance, they knew not to take it further. Not until Arya was comfortable to reach out to her brothers and her sister.

“I’m going to ask Ser Clegane to help me with Theon’s body and find him a place to rest until the burials are in order. Then I’ll see what Varys and Gilly have found for food and drink. Varys has already started the movement of the dead outside the northern walls, beyond the northern trenches.”

“We should burn the dead. I know, there is no more Night King but we can’t ask all the living to dig a grave for each dead. I think the best thing we can do is to have a large burial ceremony. We can arrange it in a way to allow the living to pay their final respects,” Jon pauses and looked past Sansa before continuing, “We need to send a raven to the Iron Islands. Send them news of Theon’s death and ask Yara if she wishes her brother’s body to be returned, otherwise, we can lay him to rest in our crypts.”  
Sansa noticed Arya giving her brother a confused look. Jon met his little sister’s eyes with sadness but before he could give his reasons, Bran spoke up.

“Theon chose to be here. At Winterfell. He stood at the helm of their Greyjoy ship beside his sister, and even though she commanded him to come back here, she knew that he wanted to fight for the Starks. After rescuing his sister, this is where he wanted to be. As Theon’s blood relative, she has a right to determine how her brother is to be buried. If she allows Theon to remain here, Jon wants his brother to rest where the Starks are buried. Theon was a Greyjoy just as much as he was a Stark. He was raised from infancy by Ned Stark which makes him Ned Stark’s son just as Jon is.”

Now, Sansa noticed Jon winced slightly as Bran finished his final sentence.

“I’ll find the Maester and get him to send a raven,” she said, “Do we know anyone else that has died?”

“I beg your pardon, My Lady,” Ser Davos spoke up, “I’m afraid that Lady Lyanna of House Mormont has fallen.”

Sansa’s heart fell once more. She looked at Jon to see the same sadness in his eyes.

“Do you know where Lady Mormont’s body is, Ser Davos?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Take her to Varys, near the northern trenches. I’ll ask Clegane to follow you with Theon’s body.”

“Very well, My Lady.”

As she left their close-knit circle, Sansa felt the cold tighten around her body. Ser Davos followed her as she approached Sandor who had remained by Theon’s body. When she made her request of him and where he should go, he nodded and removed the spear from Theon and carried him out of the godswood, Davos leading the way while Sansa followed behind. Just before they cleared some ironwood trees that lined the boundary of the godswood, some Stark bannermen appeared bearing the arms of the Manderly, the Karstarks and the Hornwoods.

“Removed the bodies from the centre of the godswood by the weirwood tree. We’ll deal with wights that lined the path tomorrow,” She instructed. The eight or so men, bowed their heads quickly before they continued on.

Just as they entered the courtyard, they are met by Daenerys, Missandei, Brienne, Jaime, Tyrion and Gendry. Both Davos and Sandor give way for Sansa to talk to the Dragon Queen.

“I am so sorry for your loss,” Daenerys spoke, as she held Sansa’s hands, “Theon cared deeply for you.”

Before Sansa could reply, Clegane spoke out to Sansa, “I’ll take him to the northern trenches.” He leaves following behind Davos.

She looks back to the dragon queen and spoke of Theon.

“He was the first brother to save me. Jon was second.” She paused before continuing, “I must find Gilly to see if the food and drinks are being prepared.”

“Would you like us to accompany you, My Lady?” asked Ser Brienne.

“No, Ser Brienne. Yet I do have a favour to ask,” she hesitated. Brienne smiled at the acknowledgment of her new title.

“What is it, Lady Stark?”

“If you have a little more strength to give, we can arrange a place for the survivors to sleep tonight within the walls of Winterfell. Our old laundress had a large storeroom filled with extra sheets and blankets, at the guest’s quarters. Enough to share around. We can first lay them in the Great Hall and more in the surrounding buildings so the tired can rest before I ask them to help begin the cleanup tomorrow.”

“Very good,” replied Brienne before bowing her head, “My Lady.” She turned to Daenerys and bowed once more, “Your Grace.” She walked away with Jaime following behind her.

“Jon is still in the godswood,” Sansa informed Daenerys while she watched the two knights walk away.

“Did he do it? Did he kill the Night King?”

Sansa turned slowly and looked straight into the Dragon Queen’s eyes, “No,” she said firmly, “It was my sister.”

“Your sister?”

Sansa nodded, gave the queen the smallest of curtsies and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write when I’m stressed. And I am stressed about tonight’s episode. This also fills the holes in my heart that were punched out through the entirety of episode four. Hope you find this as cathartic as I do.


	7. The Starks – Arya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter for this work. A nice long one too. Thank you for being patient. I am still in mourning since the last episode aired.

Arya’s hands wrapped around Bran’s fingers.

“Bran, we should get you inside,” she said. Bran stared off into the distance silently. She made her way behind his chair, “Your hands are as cold as ice. Sometime next to the fireplace in your room will work.”

“We can’t leave just yet,” Bran spoke softly.

“Why not?” Jon asked.

Bran said nothing as he stared into the ironwood trees behind Jon. The Stark bannermen walked in and out of the opening between the trees, as they cleared the fallen men surrounding the weirwood tree. The snow continued to fall softly, and through the trees emerged four figures. Yet as they passed Ghost, Arya could see Gendry stay by Ghost’s side. The dire wolf nuzzled his nose against the blacksmith’s leg gently so Gendry began to pet him. Arya only looked away when the Dragon Queen, Tyrion and Missandei stood in front of the three Starks.

“I heard that you killed the Night King. Is that true?” Daenerys asked, strands of her silver-white hair streaked with brown and red. Arya nodded as she noticed the Dragon Queen inspect her from head to toe as well.

“Let me be one of the first to say, Thank you,” she said.  “The living are in your debt, something I don’t think the world could ever repay.”

Arya gave a small smile before she replied. “We wouldn’t of stood a chance against the Army of the Dead without your dragons and your armies. My brother tells me that we wouldn’t have had all these dragonglass weapons without the supplies we got from Dragonstone.” As she spoke, Arya noticed Daenerys and even Missandei’s facial expression shift into a subdued happiness, as though they appreciated the recognition of the immense contribution the Dragon Queen had made to their cause.

“We all fought alongside each other. Together. But at the end of all this, we won, because of you. A service like that to the realms of men merits the grandest of rewards.”

Arya quickly glanced over to Gendry, who stood patiently beside Ghost.

“It is a reward that I will ask of you later, Your Grace. I think now is not the time to ask.”

Daenerys looked in the direction where Arya’s eyes shifted momentarily and gave a small smile as she turned back. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and see if your sister needs any assistance.”

“Your Grace,” Jon said as he bowed his head.

“Your Grace,” Arya echoed, as she watched the three walk away. Now, Bran, Arya and Jon remained by the weirwood tree, as all of the wights and the fallen Iron-born, were taken away by the Stark bannermen. Jon turned back to Arya and smiled. He placed his hand on her cheek and planted another kiss on the top of her head.

“Later, you need to tell me how you did it. And you’re not allowed to leave anything out,” Jon said with a chuckle before turning to their brother, “Bran, We will take you to your chambers.” Jon pushed Bran’s chair as he began to walk away but Arya didn’t follow. She felt a weariness wash over her that she had never felt before. As though the task of destroying the Night King meant giving part of herself away. She looked towards the large snow-covered stone that rested by the frozen pond, the same stone she had seen her lord father sit on countless times before.

*******

One by one, wights steadily streamed into the godswood. Some wights attacked the men that stood their ground in the centre of the godswood, others added to a perimeter that began to form, a barrier to let no one pass but their own. Arya watched silently as she shifted between the ironwood trees. Suddenly, a coldness descended into the godswood.

_Winter is truly here,_ she thought.

She fought to keep her breaths far apart and shallow as the clouds of warm air that escaped her mouth, could give away her position in the sea of the undead.  The wights cleared a path.

The Face of Death walked past her. Only four or five steps were between him and her.

The Iron-born had fallen but Theon was the only one that remained standing. She could tell that he was tired. He was breathing heavily and used the spear he fought with as a support to stop himself from falling.

She heard Bran’s say something but between the trees, the wights and the winter winds that Death brought with him, it was hard for Arya to hear. She shifted through the trees once more and found a recently dead northern girl with her face untouched. Using the dagger, she made quick work of the face and replaced her own. She found her way back between the wights that lined the path, undetected. Her breaths became still and her feet planted into the ground and made no movements. Just behind the Night King’s generals. She saw the Night King take a step forward. She wanted to kill him but she knew that it would be difficult with all the wights and his generals so close to him.

Then a scream echoed from the weirwood tree, followed by a snap of the spear and she saw Theon’s body fall to the ground. She tore eyes away from Theon’s body and stared into the back of Death that made his way towards Bran. He made his way through the bodies that littered the ground, past the stone her father used to sit on, a lifetime ago, before finally standing still in front of Bran, blocking her brother from view.

_The stone._

She took a large gasp of air.

_I need to scream. I need him to know I’m coming._

She pulled the face off.

_If Death meets me today, he better see my face._

She sprinted, aiming for her father’s stone as she still held her breath and pulled the Valyrian steel dagger from her belt.

_Night King. Night King. Night King._

She repeated his name in her head, over and over again.

Arya launched herself off the stone and screamed as loudly as she could.

The cold hand choked the remaining breath from her body. His ice blue eyes stared into her.

_Eyes you’ll shut forever._ The red woman’s voice echoed in her mind. Then a distant memory and a deep gravelly voice came to her.

_That’s where the heart is. That’s how you kill a man._

*******

“Are you coming Arya?” Jon’s voiced echoed, breaking her out of her trance. She looked away from the stone and towards Jon, who now stood by Gendry and Ghost.

“I think I’ll stay here for a while.”

Jon looked worried but then, Arya saw Gendry whisper something towards Jon. Her brother’s expression softens and he placed a hand on Gendry’s shoulder before leaving with Bran and Ghost following behind.

Arya made her way to her father’s stone and crouched before it as tears began to well in her eyes. She reached out and as her fingers touched the snow-covered seat, she shut her eyes. The tears overflowed. She heard footsteps approach her and as she opened her eyes, Arya looked beside her to see Gendry crouched next to her. She noticed that his eyes were laced with worry even though his face was as bloody and bruised as she thought hers was. With the last bit of energy she had left, she turned her body to lean up against the stone as she sat on the snow-covered floor. Gendry followed suit so that they were shoulder to shoulder.

A silence carried between them as they watched dawn’s light creep through the trees of the godswood.

“What did you tell Jon?”

“I tol-”, he paused, and then started to ramble on, “Look, I know you are a hell of a fighter. I know that. You killed the Night King. You don’t need anyone to fight your battles for you. The scars along your waist. I kn-”

She pressed a finger to his lips. His eyes widen slightly which tempted her to lose herself within them. She slowly moved her finger away to rest a hand on his cheek.

“Why did Jon allow you to stay here with me?” As she rephrased the question, his cheeks turned a slight pink.

“I told him I’d look out for you. That I’d be here for you, if you’ll have me. By your side.”

 Arya smiled at his answer and noted his face and body relax, in response to her smile. Arya looked away and still felt his eyes on her. After a while, she spoke softly.

“I remember my father used to sit by this weirwood tree, on this stone and clean his sword, Ice when he returned home after delivering the king’s, your father’s justice. Other times when mother or any of my brothers or sister had recovered from an illness, he’d offer his thanks to the old gods by keeping a vigil throughout the night.”

She paused and wondered if she should continue. “I lost faith in the Old Gods of the Forest, the day they took my father away from me. I never believed in the Lord of Light because of what happened to you. I no longer believed in my mother’s religion of the Seven since the Red Wedding. But the God of Death, I saw it everywhere I went. ”

Her eyes looked back into his blue eyes. Arya saw that she had captured not only his interest but his heart and soul too. Yet, if she did not tell him and he followed her into the lion’s den, he may not leave the place alive.

“Do you remember the list of names I said every night before I shut my eyes?”

“Joffery. Cersei. The Hound. Illyn Payne. Meryn Trant. The Mountain. Polliver.” Gendry recited, as she looked at him in surprise. “I remember. I assume you took the Hound off the list. He also told me that Thoros of Myr and Beric Dondarrion, were on your list for a while. Why did you have them on your list in the first place? Did they do something to you?” Worry returned to his face.

She shook her head. “They were on my list because they hurt you, sold you for gold and took you away from me.” Gendry smiled.

“Anyway, most of the names are dead, except for-”

“Cersei and The Mountain,” he finished.

She pulled out her Valyrian Steel dagger and rotated it between her hands. Arya knew she had to tell him to keep him safe.

“This may not make any sense. You may not like this. But I have to go down to King’s Landing.” “I have something I need to do. I won’t go now. I need time to heal. All I ask is for you not to follow me.”

“You’re going to kill Cersei and The Mountain?” he questioned.

“Yes.”

“And you’re planning to go alone?”

“Yes. After I have healed.”

Gendry looked down at the Valyrian Steel dagger that Arya moved between her hands in silence. He spoke once more, his eyes still on the weapon.

“I don’t think I could even stop you if I tried,” he began, “But I need you to hear me. Let me get this all out.”

He took a deep breath and looked back into her eyes.

“I’m no high-born. I don’t know how to command armies. Seven Hells, I don’t even know how to read that well. But think about what the Dragon Queen’s next step could be. After all this, where do you think she’ll go next? She’s going after the Iron Throne. Who is in her way? Cersei. Ask Daenerys for help. After what you have done here tonight, She’d be willing to help. She’d probably be happy that someone could take out Cersei without risking the lives of all that live in King’s Landing. And the Mountain? Before I left King’s Landing, no one could speak ill of the Queen because the Mountain would go around Flea Bottom killing people who disrespected her. He could pick up a full grown man with one hand and crush his head into a wall. All I’m saying is maybe there’s a way of getting in with a small group of people undetected. It’s better to fight the Mountain with many people, rather than just one. Arya, why do you need to do this alone?”

“This is for my family. I don’t do this for anyone else except for the people I care for. Not even for the Dragon Queen. I know we couldn’t have won this fight without her dragons but I’m doing this for me and my family. Ever since we left Winterfell, my family have been through unimaginable horrors. We deserve that justice. And… I don’t want people dying for me.” She answered with a special emphasis on the final sentence.

Gendry sighed, leaning his head back onto the stone.

“You are going to stay for a little while?”

Arya answered his question by resting her head on his shoulder. After a moment, she felt his arm wrap around her.

As her eyes began to close, she could hear Gendry whisper.

“Please don’t do this alone.”

As the warmth of his embrace lulled her into a moment of peace, she thought about the truths Gendry had told her. She knew there was another person who wanted to kill the Mountain, more than she did.

_Maybe I don’t need to do this alone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind words and kudos! They are greatly appreciated. I have a couple of extra chapters that could be for an Aftermath series, so be sure to keep an eye out for it over the next month.

**Author's Note:**

> In this house, I have always stanned Arya Stark.
> 
> So what did you guys think? Please leave a comment and/or kudos! :)  
> Because:  
> 1\. It makes my day!  
> 2\. It helps me improve my writing!
> 
> Side note: I spent hours rewatching the last 20 mins of the episode in order to figure where everyone was located at the end of the episode. If you don't believe me - blame-it-on-the-nargles.tumblr.com/post/184545551033/trying-to-figure-out-where-everyone-is-at-the-end (it's my best guess.)


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